


To Moscow With Love

by sanssouci



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 11:51:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17263709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanssouci/pseuds/sanssouci
Summary: Russia is getting prepared to spend his Christmas alone with a bottle of vodka. But perhaps a Christmas miracle will occur.One-shot, implied RusAme, Christmas-themed.





	To Moscow With Love

The snow piled up in Moscow’s streets, locking its residents into their apartments. The snowploughs were no match for the white mass which buried the city beneath. Russia readied himself to make his Christmas meal out of simple boiled potatoes and beet roots. Even if he found an open shop so late on a holiday, it would be nearly impossible to reach it.

Russia had seen many winters, hundreds of winters in fact. Yet he could never truly reconcile with the season. He hated the cold that sucked the life out of plants, animals, and humans, even nations. In his younger years, Russia had lost the way in the snow-covered lands more than once. His short legs would give in and his body sink into a cold white grave. He would lie on the same spot for hours, semi-conscious but unable to move. But he would not die. Every time, he was found by a search party sent out for him or sometimes a random passer-by. Fur blankets and camp fires could chase the cold out of his body, but the memories of long and lonely nights in the wilderness remained.

Even though the snow was unlikely to kill anyone with the status of nationhood, it left Russia with a feeling of lingering threat. He avoided mentioning his anxiety to anyone, not that he shared his personal feelings anyway. Once he made the mistake of mentioning his aversion to snow to England, who barely restrain himself from cackling and immediately asked Russia how he was ever able to fight France or Germany in wintertime. This episode just strengthened Russia’s resolve to never share his personal affairs with other nations. 

Ukraine and Belarus knew him long enough to know that Russia longed to escape the harsh winters of his homelands. On one hand, the frost had moulded him, strengthened him, and saved him more than once from enemies. Yet General Winter was a fickle ally and any minute he could turn from a valuable asset into another foe.

Russia heated up the stove and boiled some water to make tea. Then he sat down to peal his small batch of potatoes. Through the snowfall, Christmas lights glimmered like stars. But confronted with the prospect of a festive meal consisting exclusively of root vegetables, Russia struggled to embrace the holiday spirit. At least Vanya, the Siberian cat, was not bothered by the snow storm. He had gobbled up his food until there was not a single crumb left in his bowl and now pawed against the kitchen window. 

Russia sighed. “Sorry, Vanya. I can’t let you go onto the balcony. It’s too cold outside, even for someone with fur like yours.”

Vanya turned around and gave Russia a blank stare. Then he retreated to sulk. As the cat jumped off the windowsill, he nearly knocked over the pots with sunflower that Russia had brought inside to protect them from the cold. Russia stood up to move the pot back into place. As he positioned the plant, he noticed his phone was still charging on the kitchen counter. Since he hardly ever received any messages, he often left his phone lying around the house and then forgot about it. But Russia did not blame others for the lack of communication. 

He himself hardly ever dared to talk to his former allies. The Baltics for example avoided him whenever they could, and Russia wondered occasionally whether he deserved it. Today, only Ukraine sent an emoji-filled holiday message and China sent a video of animated pandas wearing Santa hats and singing Christmas carols. Belarus even left a voice message but was apparently too busy for a full conversation. Russia kept telling himself that he was an introvert and therefore should enjoy his time away from chattering people. But sometimes, the loneliness became too much.

Luckily, Russia knew about a traditional remedy. Just as he poured vodka into a glass, Vanya stuck his head back into the kitchen. It was not the first time the cat had tried to steal some alcohol. Obviously, Vanya did not actually like vodka, but just wanted to steal some because he was not allowed to drink. Russia twisted the glass for a few seconds, then emptied it in one go. One glass became two glasses and then turned into three, four, five. Then Russia lost count. He could feel his body slumping onto the kitchen table and the alcohol drew all energy from his limbs. On the hob, the potatoes were boiling.

A sudden ring at the door startled him and tension flowed immediately into his limbs. Decades of visits by the secret police had taught Russia to be careful with unannounced visitors. But Vanya, whose hair usually stood vertically towards the roof whenever the police showed up, trotted towards the door and stared at the doorknob as if he demanded the nation to open up. The cat’s behaviour put Russia somewhat at ease. As he walked towards the door, the bell rang again. Whoever was outside had no patience. Or manners for that matter.

The first thing Russia saw when he opened the door was a man in a fur-rimmed jacket with radiant blue eyes and a cheeky grin on his face. 

“Surprise!”, America roared. 

Russia was stunned. “America, what are you doing here?”

“I am playing Santa Clause. Or do you call him here Ded Moroz?”

Russia was too confused to reply to that. “How did you even get here through the snow?” 

“First of all, my flight was delayed because of this wintery magic”, America chirped happily. “I then bribed a taxi driver to take me to your neighbourhood and then had a rather heroic quest battling my way through the snow. But here I am to save your Christmas.” America’s smile widened as he lifted up two shopping bags standing next to him. “I picked up groceries at the airport. Didn’t even need to cool them.”

“You must be freezing. Come in before you succumb to hypothermia.” Russia guided America into his apartment. One day, America’s idiotic attempts at heroism would get him seriously injured.

“Most kind of you, Russia”, America replied “I was actually hoping you’d let me in. What a hassle it would be to carry all of this back home.”

“It’s best you come to the kitchen. It’s the warmest place in the apartment.”

“Roger that”, America said, picked up the bags, and stripped of his wet boots without using his hands. Russia picked them up and neatly placed them next to the door where they could dry. He then lead his unexpected guest to the kitchen, but there was a more unpleasant surprise waiting there. 

“Oh, damn! The potatoes boiled over.” Russia sprinted towards the hob that was covered in water.

“No worries! I googled what Russians eat for Christmas, but I got so many suggestions, I decided to buy ingredients for anything.” America started digging in the shopping bags and after a short while pulled out a bag of potatoes with a triumphant smile. “Aha, right between the eggs and the caviar. We’re all set then.”

Russia could not quite process America’s random act of kindness. “That is very thoughtful of you. But why are you even here? How did you know that I was stuck at Christmas with vodka and overcooked potatoes in my apartment?”

America was still unpacking groceries and replied without looking up: “I talked to your sister Belarus a couple of days ago and realised you’d be by yourself on Christmas. I figured that you’d feel lonely.”

Russia had to admit that America – if he chose to – could be fairly perceptive of things other people refused to admit to themselves.

As if America just read his thoughts, he said: “I know Japan keeps roasting me about not being able to ‘read the atmosphere’. But that does not mean I’m completely ignorant. I’ve known you long enough that you just pretend to enjoy isolation. The snowstorm was an unintended but important extra that makes my heroic job of saving your Christmas even more fulfilling.”

Russia was slightly taken aback by America’s straightforwardness. “So, you are here to show me pity and the dreadful state I find myself.”

America laughed and shook his head. “Not at all. I am here because I wanted to celebrate with you. That reminds me, I have something special for you.” America grabbed his backpack and pulled out a white box. “I made them myself. France helped me through a video call, but I can’t promise they are perfect.”

Russia slowly opened up the box. He found twelve cookies shaped and decorated like sunflowers. The yellow icing had dripped over the edges of some cookies and petals were occasionally crooked. Yet to Russia, they were beautiful. He could feel a tear in the corner of his eye.

“I don’t even know how I deserve this gift. I…” Russia was too overwhelmed to speak properly.

America just smiled and the hugged Russia. “Just see it a present, from old friend to another. Merry Christmas, Ivan.”

Russia returned the hug and let the warmth of America’s body flow into his own.

“Merry Christmas, Alfred.”

**Author's Note:**

> Perhaps a bit late to the holiday season, but Christmas in Russia is January so I don't feel bad about it :P 
> 
> Regarding Russian Christmas food, the internet provided me with somewhat contradictory information. I imagine Alfred had the same problem.


End file.
